A Sudden Gust of Gravity
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: Calleigh came to Miami to escape the demons of her past, but some things are impossible to hide from.


Title: A Sudden Gust of Gravity

Author: Melanie-Anne

Email: melani_anne@yahoo.com 

Rating: PG-13 for some strong language & disturbing content

Archive: Anywhere you like, just let me know so I can visit.

Summary: Calleigh came to Miami to escape the demons of her past, but some things are impossible to hide from.

Disclaimer: Not my characters, alas.

A/N: Stand-alone fic. Not quite sure what possessed me to write this. But, well, here it is. 

For Tamara and Roz, because.

* * *

That there

That's not me

I go

Where I please

I walk through walls

I float down the Liffey

I'm not here

This isn't happening

I'm not here

~ Radiohead, "How To Disappear Completely"

* * *

In moonlight and shadows, skin moved on skin. Feather-light kisses, soft sighs, hair falling down to tickle his face. Calleigh closed her eyes and imagined that he was someone else. Pretended another man murmured her name. Felt a different mouth pair of lips on her neck.

Afterwards, she left John Hagen asleep in her bed and retreated to the bathroom, the bitter aftertaste of regret already stinging her throat. She locked the door and ran a bath.

Calleigh stared at her reflection in the mirror, hating what she saw. Her hair was tousled, her lips bruised with kisses, her skin still flushed. This was a mistake, she thought.

It was too late to go back. All the 'should haves' in the world couldn't make this right. She'd had too much to drink, she'd been lonely, unloved, and for a moment she had felt attractive in someone's eyes.

Still, she thought, that was no excuse.

Calleigh climbed into the bath, the water scalding her skin. She welcomed the pain—it took her mind off the real problem. Hugging her knees to her chest, she cried. Deep, noiseless sobs wracked her tiny frame. She bit down on her arm to keep from making a sound, wondering exactly where along the line she fucked everything up so completely.

She picked up the sponge and slowly soaped her body. The thought of John on and inside her was suddenly unbearable. It wasn't him she wanted.

Besides, he deserved better than her.

Calleigh picked up a thin metal blade. She pressed it to the skin on the inside of her arm. A faint red line sprang up. Calleigh pressed down harder, breaking the skin, and drew the blade down. The blood ran down her arm, dripping into the water. She watched the red droplets swirl away and disappear completely.

She made a parallel cut, wishing that somehow whatever poisons were inside her would drain away and disappear in the water.

Calleigh couldn't bear looking down at her naked body anymore. She rinsed her arm but the wounds kept bleeding. Grabbing a bandage from the medicine cabinet, Calleigh wrapped it around her arm then toweled herself dry.

She brushed her teeth before she went back into the bedroom, relieved to find John still asleep. Very quietly, she took a sweatsuit from her closet and tiptoed to the living room. Once dressed, she curled up on the couch and prayed for sleep.

It didn't come.

Desperate, Calleigh returned to the bathroom and took two sleeping pills.

* * *

She was woken by someone gently shaking her shoulder. For a moment, her mind was clouded with confusion, but the memories quickly returned.

"Calleigh?"

John was the last person Calleigh wanted to see. She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "John, I—"

When she met his gaze, she knew he knew what was coming. She had to say it anyway. "I'm sorry about last night, John. We—"

"Don't be sorry. I'm not. I really like you, Cal. I think—"

She shook her head, her mind made up. "I . . . I'm just not in a good place right now. I wouldn't be good for you. Last night . . . it was great, but it doesn't mean anything."

Her words cut him, but even if she had wanted to take them back, she couldn't.

"It's not just about sex. I care about you." He reached for her but she shrank away.

"I don't doubt that."

There was a long pause where John looked at Calleigh and she stared at her folded hands.

"Have dinner with me this week," John said.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

John nodded, then quietly gathered his things and left. Calleigh reached for the phone. Her ginger tabby, back from whatever nocturnal travels he'd had, jumped up onto the couch and nuzzled her.

"Caine," Horatio answered.

Barely holding herself together, she said, "It's Calleigh."

"Is something wrong?"

The concern in his voice just about did her in. "I need today off. If that's okay. I can come in if you really need me but—"

"It's fine. We can manage a day without you." A pause. "Are you sure you're okay?"

There was that concern again; she really didn't deserve this man. "I'm fine. A touch of flu, that's all."

He hesitated, and Calleigh thought he knew she was lying. But he said, "Okay," and she let herself breathe again.

She hung up before he could say anything else, pushed the cat from her lap and headed for the bedroom.

The rumpled sheets bore testament to the previous night's indiscretion. Calleigh stripped the bed and dumped the sheets in the laundry basket. She re-made the bed with her 'feel-good bedding'; cotton candy-colored sheets, a pink and white striped duvet and matching pillowcases. She opened the window to let fresh air in, feeling marginally better.

She was on her hands and knees, looking for the condom wrapper, when she remembered they hadn't used one.

You idiot, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking? Unprotected sex in this day and age—you deserve whatever happens to you!

Calleigh headed for the refrigerator in search of comfort food. There was leftover pizza from a few nights back, a slice of chocolate cake and, best of all, an unopened carton of ice cream in the freezer.

If this didn't cheer her up, nothing would.

* * *

Horatio was worried. Something had been troubling his ballistics expert of late but he hadn't pushed her to find out what, knowing she would come to him when she was ready. Thinking about the phone call he'd just received, Horatio realized he might have been wrong. To his recollection, Calleigh had never missed a day of work unless it was scheduled leave. And who had a touch of flu in the middle of July anyway?

Besides, she had sounded sad, not sick.

He decided to check up on her later. One way or another, he would get to the bottom of this.

Suddenly—sadly—he realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her smile.

Later that day, when John came looking for Calleigh, Horatio wondered if he had anything to do with her recent mood. It was common knowledge that John Hagen was interested in Calleigh, and Horatio had heard via the grapevine that they'd been out a few times. If John made Calleigh happy, which was all Horatio wanted, then Horatio would give the relationship his blessing, despite the ache in his own heart.

But if John hurt Calleigh . . .

Horatio saw the concern in John's eyes when he explained that Calleigh had taken the day off, and had to admit that the detective did care about her. He just wished things had turned out slightly differently.

* * *

On his way home from work, Horatio took a detour past Calleigh's apartment. When she opened the door to him, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Calleigh looked fine physically—more than fine, he admitted, she looked great—but her eyes lacked their usual fire.

"Hey, Horatio." She was jumpy, uncomfortable, and couldn't look him in the eye. "What's up?"

"I wanted to see how you were feeling." It was partly true; he was concerned, but he'd missed her too. He'd never realized before just how much seeing Calleigh affected his day.

"You came all this way to see how I was?" Some of the sparkle returned to Calleigh's eyes. "You could have called."

"Well, you know what I always say: trust, but verify."

His comment earned him a smile and Calleigh gestured for him to come inside. "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"Sure." He sat on the couch, and looked around him. This was the first time he'd been inside Calleigh's apartment. A vase of bright yellow tulips stood in the center of the coffeetable. Next to it were Calleigh's gun and a cleaning kit. The contrast was strange, but it was Calleigh. Soft and feminine on the one hand, tough and hard as nails on the other.

Horatio barely had time to wonder about the absence of family photographs when Calleigh returned with the coffee. "Anything exciting happen today?"

"Not really. A homeless guy was stabbed to death. Turns out his buddy wanted his coat. Other than that, nothing worth mentioning."

Calleigh looked down at her mug. "Look, about today, I'm sorry. I just needed—"

"No explanations necessary. As long as you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Good. You know my door's always open if you want to talk."

"I'm fine," she repeated, then forced a smile.

A large orange tabby jumped up and settled himself on Horatio's lap. Horatio knew he'd be covered in cat hair when he stood, but he didn't care. He was too busy enjoying the moment.

"Looks like you made a friend," Calleigh said. "Lucky you. He doesn't usually like people."

"What's his name?"

Calleigh flushed slightly. "Uh, umm . . ."

"Calleigh?"

"I need to explain. Janet gave him to me and we were struggling to think up a good name, so she said something like, 'Since he's a redhead, why don't you call him H?'" Embarrassed, Calleigh fidgeted with the end of her ponytail.

Horatio smiled and looked at the cat's id disc. Sure enough, the cat's name was H. Horatio wasn't quite sure what to make of that. "I guess I should be flattered," he teased.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course I never figured I'd have to introduce you to my cat." Her expression turned wistful. "Janet always had a strange sense of humor." 

There was a knock at the door and what was unmistakably John Hagen's voice calling, "Calleigh?"

Horatio immediately registered the change in Calleigh. Whatever they'd shared for that brief moment was gone, replaced by something else. Frustration? Guilt? Horatio couldn't tell. Calleigh jumped up to answer the door. H. leaped off Horatio's lap and headed for the kitchen.

Seconds later, John entered carrying a bunch of roses. Horatio stood, his face a perfect mask of calm though his heart was twisted in pain. He nodded to John.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Calleigh. Thanks for the coffee."

As he drove home, he hoped that John appreciated how lucky he was.

* * *

Calleigh told herself she should be happy; at least someone wanted her. Somewhere inside herself, she knew that John only wanted the idea of her—the real Calleigh was too damaged for anyone to want. Maybe, she thought, just maybe this was enough.

Last night she had intended to tell him there was no chance for them, but he had brought flowers and he had been so damn earnest and Calleigh wanted so badly for someone to love her.

Horatio cared about her, that much was true. He had gone out of his way to check up on her and she had opened up enough to tell him her cat's name. But he was only concerned as a boss and a colleague; after all, how could his team function efficiently if people were falling apart all over the place? He didn't want her the way John wanted her.

"Hey." 

She whirled around at the sound of Horatio's voice, almost knocking the tray of bullets flying. "Hey."

"Yelina's got two DB's for us. You ready?"

Calleigh nodded, glad of the chance to work alongside Horatio. She hung up her lab coat, picked up her field kit and followed him to the Hummer.

They arrived at the scene: a middle-class house in a decent neighborhood. A man's body lay in the living room, gunshot wounds to his head and abdomen. A woman lay in the hallway, just outside the bedroom. Calleigh noticed that the TV, VCR and hi-fi were missing.

"Looks like a burglary gone wrong," she said.

"Or a murder meant to look like a burglary."

She turned and shot Horatio a mock-glare. "You never go for the simple explanation, do you?"

"I just don't want to jump to conclusions until we've examined the evidence."

"I'll take the bedroom." She headed down the hallway and knelt beside the woman's body. Horatio watched her for a moment. She seemed fine, but he could still sense the underlying tension.

'Let me in,' he wanted to say. Instead, he turned his attention to the dead man and started taking photographs.

* * *

Calleigh leaned against the bar counter to keep her balance. Three glasses of wine and countless shooters later, she was finally relaxed enough to let go. John sat on a stool next to her, nursing his second beer. Calleigh brushed up against him and ran her hands up his sides.

She was just drunk enough not to care about anything. That she was dangerously close to traveling the same path as her father, that this wasn't what she really wanted, that she was throwing her life away—none of that mattered.

After working side by side with Horatio all day, she had met John for after-work drinks. She tried not to care that Horatio was there too—it shouldn't have surprised her, _Six_ _Shooters_ was a bar they all frequented—or that he was chatting cozily to his sister-in-law. Sitting so close to John, Calleigh realized there was something wrong with this picture: loving one man, dating another. 

She leaned closer to John, her lips brushing his ear. "Let's get out of here."

Back at her place, she let him fuck her again. Afterwards, lying in his sweaty embrace, Calleigh resigned herself to the fact that this was as good as things were going to get. At least they'd used a condom this time, she thought wryly. When he'd drifted off to sleep, she slipped out of bed. Locked the bathroom door behind her. Ran a bath. Picked up the blade.

Just another day in Calleigh's life.

* * *

She cooked breakfast for him. A Saturday morning, bacon and eggs, lazy day breakfast. It gave her an excuse to leave the bed early. He didn't have to work and wanted to stay; she lied and said she'd promised to run tests that afternoon but that she'd see him later.

John was gone by ten, kissing her goodbye and thanking her for the food. Calleigh forced herself to smile and pretended that she was glad he'd enjoyed it.

Alone again, she scraped the remaining food into the bin, leaving one piece of bacon for H. She stacked the plates in the dishwasher then headed for the bathroom, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

H. meowed, weaving himself in and out of her legs as if he knew what was coming and he could somehow stop her. She shooed him out of the bathroom and closed the door.

Calleigh knelt in front of the toilet bowl, tears already brimming in her eyes. She leaned forward and stuck her fingers down her throat.

. . . And she was sixteen years old again. "You can't go out like that," her mother said. "Your stomach's showing. Do you really want people to laugh at you?" 

Her brothers teasing her, telling her she was too fat for a boyfriend. Saying that the only reason Jimmy Ellis broke up with her was because Candace Beauchamp was thinner, blonder, prettier.

Thinking that Daddy would stop drinking only if she was thinner, blonder, prettier. That good kids didn't get beaten so what was wrong with her . . . wrong with her . . . wrong with her . . .

Calleigh bent over the sink, splashing her face with cold water. She straightened and looked at her face in the mirror. "Just be grateful someone wants you," she told her reflection. "Don't screw this up."

She flushed the toilet and cleaned her teeth, then decided it was time to tidy the rest of her apartment. Once she'd worked her way through the bedroom, living room and kitchen, she returned to the bathroom and picked up the blade. John must never find out, she thought, and hid it and her anti-depressants deep in her underwear drawer.

Curled up on the foot of her bed, H. watched her, a disapproving gleam in his amber eyes.

"Stop it," she said. "I know what I'm doing."

H. simply tilted his head as if to say, Is that so?

* * *

Monday morning, Horatio caught himself watching for Calleigh's arrival. He saw her from his office window and went down to speak to her.

"Calleigh, hey. We got lucky. The fingerprints at the house belong to an ex-con, Raoul Ortega. He's got previous convictions for breaking and entering, petty theft, resisting arrest. Best of all, though, Alexx got fingernail scrapings from our dead husband."

"So if Ortega's got scratch marks, there's no way out for him." Calleigh smiled. "Good news for us, bad news for him."

"Yelina's got officers looking for him. You want in on the interrogation?"

"Is the sky blue?" She laughed, then hurried off to catch Alexx. Horatio was glad to see she looked happier. Maybe she was just having a bad couple of days, he thought.

* * *

Calleigh found Speed and Eric in the break room at lunchtime. "You want some pizza?" Eric offered.

She shook her head. "Nah, but thanks. Have you seen Horatio?"

Speed nodded, and swallowed his mouthful of pizza before answering. "He went to lunch with Yelina."

"Again?" Eric whistled. "That's three times in two weeks. You don't think—"

"Aw, man, get your mind out of the gutter. She's his sister-in-law. What did you need him for, Cal?"

"It can wait. See you guys." Calleigh hurried out, fighting the jealousy that had bubbled up inside at Eric's words. She told herself she had no right to care, that it didn't matter, that she was with John anyway.

But when John called and asked if she was free for lunch, she lied and said no.

She opted to spend her break on the shooting range, which is where Horatio found her an hour later. She removed the goggles and headphones and turned around, coming face to face with Horatio. He leaned against the wall, looking like he'd been there a while.

She masked her surprise with a "Hey, Horatio."

"You needed me?"

Oh Lord, she thought. Don't say that. "I just wanted to know how things were going in tracking down Ortega."

"He's waiting for us in the interrogation room. And guess what, four scratches right over here." Horatio reached out and traced invisible lines on Calleigh's neck. She stepped back, flustered.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's nail this guy."

* * *

Horatio finished typing up his report on Raoul Ortega. Calleigh had been right; it was a burglary gone wrong. The interview had lasted twenty minutes before Ortega confessed. He had been in the living room when the owner, Kevin Abbott, had come to investigate the noise. He'd attacked Ortega so Ortega had shot him in the stomach, then in the head. Ortega had seen Mrs. Abbott at the bedroom door and shot her too.

Ortega's gun had been found in his truck and was now with Calleigh.

Speaking of Calleigh, Horatio thought, she was probably still around. Sure enough, when he went down to the ballistics lab, he saw her bent over a microscope.

"You know, the working day's officially over," he said.

"I'm almost done."

"It'll be there tomorrow."

Calleigh looked up. "Yeah, along with a dozen new cases."

"I've only got one rule around here." He approached her. "No one's allowed to clock up more overtime than me. And you, Detective, are coming dangerously close."

"Oh, yeah? That sounds like a threat, Lieutenant."

He chuckled, enjoying their banter. When Calleigh smiled too, he felt that he'd won something. What, he didn't know, but it was good to see her smile again.

Then her phone rang and she sighed. "Duquesne . . . oh, hey, John . . . yeah, we're still on for tonight . . . see you at eight."

And just like that, the magic was gone. Calleigh started to power down the equipment and took off her lab coat. "Looks like you get your way after all. You can keep your title as king of overtime, or whatever."

He nodded. "Calleigh, my door's always open. Anytime."

"I know. Thank you." She squeezed his arm on her way out.

Without her, the lab seemed colder, emptier. Horatio sighed and decided he might as well go home too.

* * *

Calleigh watched John sleep. Had it really only been a week? she wondered. For some reason it felt longer. She rolled over to face the window, hugging the pillow to her chest. She was going to have to be more careful about where she cut herself. John had commented on her scratches earlier and she'd blamed the cat. He hadn't pushed the issue but she knew she couldn't use that excuse again.

She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep. It was no use.

Calleigh quietly slid out from under the sheet and tiptoed to the bathroom. Then she realized she'd hidden the blade in her underwear drawer and cursed under her breath. She sat on the edge of the tub and studied her arms. There were some faint scars, one or two noticeable ones and, of course, last week's parallel cuts.

She stared at the thin blue veins in her wrist, temptingly close to the skin. For the first time, she was grateful she didn't have a blade on her—one of these days she was going to give in to the urge to just slice as deeply as she could.

But not tonight.

She took two sleeping pills and returned to bed.

* * *

Calleigh was looking forward to a Friday night alone. She needed space from John, room to breathe, to think. Their relationship had quickly spiraled out of her control and she felt lost, like she was living someone else's life. Someone pretty, funny, happy. Someone like the person she had always pretended she was.

Except, deep down, she knew it wasn't real.

Mike, the bartender from _Barnacles_, one of her father's frequent haunts, called as she was on her way home. Calleigh slipped into dutiful-daughter mode and said she'd be right there.

Kenwall Duquesne was passed out at the end of the counter. Calleigh blinked back tears at the sight of her daddy, once so proud, reduced to this. She crossed the room and gently shook his shoulder.

"Daddy. Dad. Come on, let's go."

He mumbled something unintelligible.

"Come on, Dad."

"Do you want me to put this on his tab?" Mike asked.

Calleigh closed her eyes and expelled a sigh. "No. No, I'll pay."

Eventually, with the help of one of the waiters, she managed to get her father to her car. Humiliated, upset, at that moment she wished he'd stayed in Louisiana.

"Lambchop," he murmured at some point on the drive home. "That you, Cal?"

"Yeah." She kept her eyes on the road, her hands clenched on the wheel.

"How's my beautiful girl?"

"Just fine."

"You know, I met your young man the other day," Kenwall said casually. "He seems nice."

"My young man?"

"Mmm. Jack or John or something."

"What? Where? Daddy, where?" 

He had passed out again, and Calleigh was left seething in anger. Once she got her father settled in his apartment, she headed straight for John's place. As she knocked on his front door, it occurred to her that this was the first time she'd been here.

He seemed happy to see her and leaned down to kiss her.

"You had no right to get involved with my father. Just because we . . . you and I . . . just because we're sleeping together doesn't give you the right to introduce yourself to my family. If I wanted you to meet him I would have—"

John grabbed her wrist in an attempt to calm her down. "Calleigh, what are you talking about?"

"I saw my father tonight. He says he met you."

John nodded. "He was at CSI the other day looking for you. You were out on a case with Horatio."

"Oh." Calleigh felt foolish. "Okay."

"Do you want to come in?"

She shook her head, stepping back. "No. Sorry."

In the safety of her car, she broke down and wept, wondering why she had overreacted, why she was so testy lately. Thinking, life wasn't supposed to be like this.

* * *

Horatio's call woke Calleigh. He began by apologizing for making her come in on a Saturday, but she didn't mind. If she was working, she wouldn't have time to think. A body riddled with bullet holes had washed up on the beach and there was added pressure to solve the case quickly because the victim was Andrew Gonsalves, the Police Chief's son.

Calleigh was glad it was Adele's case and not John's.

If there was one place Calleigh had complete confidence in herself, it was the ballistics lab. She was studying the bullets retrieved from the body when she felt Horatio enter the lab. He stood right behind her, peering over her shoulder.

She couldn't focus, not with him so close to her. John didn't leave her feeling this torn up inside; she didn't know what to do.

"Alexx says he died from a single shot to the head. Most of the wounds were post-mortem. Overkill. Someone's trying to send a message."

Calleigh was grateful that they were discussing the case. "All I can tell you so far is that the bullets are from the same gun."

"Good work. See if anything comes up in the archives; there's something familiar about this case."

"No problem." Calleigh snapped off her gloves, heard Horatio's indrawn breath, didn't realize he had seen the bruise on her wrist. "What?"

"How are you?" 

She thought it was strange he'd ask that at this point in the conversation, but humored him. "Fine."

"Really?"

She smiled. "Yes, really. Now, shoo, I've got work to do."

When he put his hand on her shoulder, she came dangerously close to losing what little control she had. But he gave her a gentle squeeze and then left.

Calleigh spent the rest of Saturday and most of Sunday reading through the archives. If Horatio knew how much time she devoted to this case, he'd kill her, but she had no desire to see either John or her father, and work provided the best excuse.

At around six, Horatio showed up with coffee. Calleigh smiled, stretching out the kinks in her back and gratefully accepted the mug. "Thanks. How'd you know I was here?"

"Your car, sitting all by itself in the parking lot."

She laughed, and Horatio took joy in the sound. He sat down next to her and picked up a file. "Find anything interesting?"

In an instant Calleigh was once again professional. "I don't know. I've been thinking, maybe it's related to a high-profile drug case the MDPD is currently investigating. As a kind of 'back off' message."

Horatio nodded, considering her words. Chief Gonsalves had a zero-tolerance approach when it came to drugs and had recently announced his intentions to crack down even harder on offenders. "Umm . . . Anything more on the bullets?"

"Nope, sorry."

"No worries. We'll find something else." Horatio swiveled to face her. "I'm glad I found you here. There's something I wanted to ask you."

Calleigh was instantly on guard. "Oh?"

"Mm-hmm." Horatio looked at her for a moment, the intensity of his gaze causing her to look away nervously. "Yesterday, I saw something that worried me."

Calleigh sipped her coffee. Horatio waited until she put the cup down, then reached for her arm and carefully raised the sleeve just enough to reveal her bruise.

"Is he hurting you, Cal?" He didn't need to say who 'he' was.

Calleigh shook her head. "It's nothing. I just bruise easily, always have."

He took her chin and gently made her look at him. "Those are finger-marks."

"Just leave it, Horatio." Her voice was sharper than usual.

"You deserve better. You deserve to be happy. Don't settle for anything less than the best."

Calleigh pulled away, tears burning in her eyes, threatening to escape. "You don't know anything."

"Calleigh." With that one word, he conveyed everything he felt for her: concern, worry . . . love.

Somehow, she ended up in his arms, sobbing into his chest, and for the first time in a long time—perhaps forever—she felt safe. She felt cared for.

Holding her, Horatio wondered at how right it felt to be this close to her. As he rubbed her back, he was shocked to be able to feel her ribs, and his mind was made up. Whatever was going on, whatever was bothering Calleigh, he would be there for her, looking out for her. Every step of the way.

Later, they found themselves on the floor, Calleigh in Horatio's lap, cradled in his arms like a child. Still crying. He wasn't sure how much time passed but eventually exhaustion got the better of her and she slept. When his phone rang, he didn't move to answer it, afraid that he would wake Calleigh. 

* * *

Calleigh woke up on the couch, Horatio's jacket acting as a blanket. She could smell him around her and smiled, then remembered who it was she was sleeping with and immediately felt guilty.

Horatio entered with two cups of coffee. "Morning."

"Hey." Strangely, she was not embarrassed by her behavior of the previous night. Somehow, instinctively, she knew that Horatio understood, that he didn't think any less of her for losing control. When he passed her a mug, she let herself hope that he was right, that she did deserve the best.

She made space for him to sit next to her and they drank their coffee in a companionable silence. Then his phone rang.

"Horatio," he answered. "Yelina, hi . . . No problem . . . I'd love to . . . Great, see you later."

During the conversation, Calleigh stood, deciding it was time to go home and change before people started arriving at work. Besides, she didn't really want to listen to Horatio making plans to see Yelina. She knew she shouldn't care, that she had no right to feel jealous, but she couldn't help it.

"Calleigh?"

"I should go home. I need to shower and stuff." She didn't look at him.

"I'll let you leave in a second. What are you doing tonight?"

No, Calleigh thought, don't you dare suggest a double date.

"I'm babysitting Ray," he continued. "If you don't already have plans, we'd love the company."

"Babysitting?" Calleigh was caught completely by surprise.

"Yeah. But if you're seeing John tonight—"

"I'm not," she said, too quickly. "Babysitting sounds good. I'll, uh, I'll see you later."

She backed out of the lab, thoroughly confused by her feelings for this man. Even more confusing was trying to figure out what he felt for her. Calleigh was certain of one thing: she needed to call it quits with John. He deserved someone who would give him all of her heart.

Horatio was in court for most of the day so Calleigh didn't see him. John arrived at CSI at lunchtime and Calleigh told him she was too busy to talk. When he irritably asked why she didn't just move in at CSI, she tried to ignore the guilty twinge of her conscience. The rest of the day passed uneventfully and Calleigh had almost forgotten about babysitting when Horatio stuck his head through the door.

"Hey, Cal."

Smiling, Calleigh handed him a sheet of paper. "I matched the bullets from this case to a murder six months ago. Enrique Morales. A gang member—Los Tiburones, I think—who sometimes acted as a police informer."

"Good work. We'll question the leader tomorrow. Now, go home and relax for a while. I'll pick you up at six-thirty."

Calleigh help the thrill of pleasure that ran up her spine. She'd spent most of the previous night in Horatio's arm, and now she was going to spend more time with him. Maybe . . . she dared hope he cared for her as more than just a colleague.

Once again, thoughts of John intruded and her conscience pricked. Calleigh knew she had to put an end to a relationship that should never have been. 

* * *

Watching Horatio cluck as he pretended to lay an egg, Calleigh dissolved in a fit of giggles. Across the table, Ray, Jr. was just as entertained. This was a side of Horatio that Calleigh had never seen, but then she supposed that the game of MAD was designed specifically for this purpose.

"Calleigh, it's your turn." Ray slid the dice across the board. Calleigh rolled a seven, then picked up a card.

"Well?" Ray asked impatiently.

Calleigh stood, placed the card on top of her and proceeded to walk backwards around the table, trying desperately to keep from laughing. As she passed Horatio, her eyes locked with his and she wanted to melt. His expression was tender, but still a little distant. She smiled and returned to her seat, triumphantly returning money to the bank.

"My turn!" Ray gleefully threw the dice. "Swap money with the person on your left."

He and Calleigh switched and she complained out loud that she was no longer in the lead. Twenty minutes later, Ray won the game and everyone moved to the living room to watch the movie. Sitting on the opposite end of the couch to Horatio, Calleigh felt almost content. She could get used to this.

The house was warm but she didn't dare roll up her sleeves. The bruise John had accidentally given her was now a horrible shade of yellow and her most recent cuts stood out on her pale skin. She couldn't let Horatio see them; he would most likely be disgusted, and she didn't think she could bear to disappoint him.

"What movie did you bring?" Ray asked. He looked at Calleigh. "Not a girl movie, I hope."

Horatio chuckled. "Far from it. 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'."

"Cool." Ray jumped up and put the DVD in. Then he turned to Calleigh, his hands on his hips, a mischievous smile on his face. "You're in my spot."

Knowing better than to argue with a Caine, Calleigh slid to the middle of the couch, ending up just inches from Horatio. Watch the movie, she told herself. This is not a date, behave yourself!

But at some point during the film, she realized she was leaning comfortably against Horatio and he had his arm across her shoulders. She also realized she had no desire to move.

Afterwards, Ray decided it was quiz time, and Calleigh was the subject. How did she know Uncle Horatio? Was she a cop too? Where was she from? What did she think of the movie, and a ton of other endless questions. Eventually Horatio told Ray enough was enough.

"I don't mind," Calleigh said.

Ray gave his uncle a smug smile and turned back to Calleigh. "Do you have a gun?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Have you ever shot someone?"

"Raymond!" Horatio's tone carried a warning.

"It's okay. Yeah, I have. In the line of duty. But they didn't die."

"Can I see your gun?"

"Ray—"

"I didn't bring it. Tell you what, if your mom and Uncle Horatio say it's okay, you can come by the ballistics lab one day and I'll give you a tour."

Ray's face lit up. "Really? That would be so awesome. What do you say, Uncle Horatio?"

"I'll speak to your mom _if_ you give the questions a rest. It's past your bedtime anyway."

Ray sighed. "Okay. Goodnight. It was nice to meet you, Calleigh."

"Night, Ray."

"Looks like you have a fan," Horatio said when Ray was gone.

Calleigh smiled. "He's a sweet kid. Thanks for asking me to come tonight. It's exactly what I needed . . . a touch of normalcy."

"We didn't really get a chance to talk today."

Calleigh fiddled with the sleeve of her blouse. "It was a busy day."

"Well, neither of us are busy right now."

Calleigh held her breath. No, she thought, everything was going so well until now.

"Tell me about your bruise, Calleigh. If John Hagen is hurting you . . ."

The intensity in his voice surprised her. "He's not," she hurried to explain. "Trust me, okay? John would never hurt me." She did a good enough job of that herself.

"Is it someone else then?"

She shook her head. "It was an accident. I was upset and John grabbed my wrist to calm me down. I told you before, I bruise easily. He doesn't even know about the bruise."

"Promise me that if he—or anyone—ever raises a hand to you, you'll come to me."

Where were you when I was growing up, Calleigh wondered. She was about to reply when Yelina returned home and the moment passed.

* * *

Calleigh knelt in front of the toilet. For once she didn't want to throw up, but thinking about the pizza she'd eaten to keep up the appearance of normalcy, she imagined the fat going straight to her hips. Somewhere deep inside herself she knew it didn't matter, that she didn't have to do this to herself, that her mother was wrong, but it was easier to listen to her demons than fight them.

She didn't even need to stick her finger down her throat; the action was automatic after all this time.

She hunched over the toilet bowl, wisps of hair stuck to her sweaty face, tears pouring down her cheeks, her throat burning. Who was she kidding? The normal life she craved so badly was just a dream and tonight was a cruel reminder that it would stay a dream. If Horatio found out who she really was, _what_ she really was . . . she couldn't bear thinking about it.

But still, there was that tiny flicker of hope his words the previous night had ignited.

Filled with self-loathing at what she had let herself become, Calleigh took the bottle of sleeping pills from the medicine cabinet and emptied it into the sink. She turned the tap on and watched the pills swirl away. Then she took her anti-depressants from their hiding place and the diet pills from the kitchen cupboard and washed them down the kitchen sink.

She returned to the bedroom and picked up the blade. 

And hesitated.

Instead of getting rid of it, she rolled up her sleeve and pressed to her skin. She closed her eyes and remembered sitting so close to Horatio earlier in the evening, remembered how good it felt to have his arm around her, and she took a deep breath.

Later, she would admit that it was the thought of Horatio that saved her.

Calleigh threw the blade across the room, as far away as she could and curled up on the bed. The metal glinted in the light and Calleigh squeezed her eyes shut so she would have to look at it. She hated herself, hated the need, but for once, she refused to give in.

That night she got no sleep, but when morning came and the blade was where she'd left it, she knew she'd won the first round.

* * *

The leader of Los Tiburones, a tattooed young man in jeans and a leather jacket he insisted on wearing despite the heat, slouched in a chair in the interrogation room. Horatio sat opposite, a file open in front of him. Diego Gutierrez had been in and out of prison since he was twelve; petty things at first, but he'd graduated to more serious crimes. A classic example of how the best schools for learning to be a criminal were prisons.

"Look, man," Diego said, "I got nothin' to tell you."

Horatio's smile lacked warmth. "Andrew Gonsalves. Ring any bells?"

"Sorry. Never heard of him."

"Hmm. Really. So why'd you have him killed?"

Diego leaned forward, smiling. "Says who?"

There was a knock on the glass window. Calleigh beckoned Horatio, holding up a sheet of paper.

"Says your gun."

Diego shot Horatio an insolent look. "What gun?"

"The one we found in your apartment." Horatio stood, pleased to see the flicker of uncertainty that crossed Diego's face. He gently closed the door behind him and took the report from Calleigh.

"It's definitely the gun used to kill Andrew Gonsalves and Enrique Morales. I couldn't get any prints off it but chances are there'll still be GSR on Mr. Tough Guy's hands." She smiled at him.

Horatio nodded, pleased. "Do you want the honors?"

"Sure." Calleigh entered the interrogation room ahead of Horatio. Diego perked up when he saw her, and a slow smile crossed his face.

"Are you my lawyer?" He whistled softly. "They send me prettier ones each time."

Horatio tensed and had to concentrate hard to keep from reacting. It wouldn't do to parade his feelings for Calleigh in front of scum like Diego Gutierrez—it would almost diminish those feelings.

Still, it was difficult to just stand by and watch Diego disrespect Calleigh.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Calleigh said, sounding anything but sorry. "Could you hold out your arms please?"

"Baby, haría mucho màs para usted." _I'd do a lot more for you._ Diego stood, his eyes raking across Calleigh's body as he held out his arms. Horatio's hands balled into fists.

"Nice jacket," Calleigh said. "You wear it often?"

"All the time, baby. Only take it off for . . . special occasions." He leered.

Calleigh ignored Diego and sprayed the sodium rhodizonate on the cuffs of his jacket and his hands. As it turned bright blue, Diego pulled his arms back.

"Bitch! What the hell did you do? That's my jacket!"

She smiled sweetly. "And now it's evidence."

Diego glared at Calleigh and Horatio. Then, deciding it was in his best interest to cooperate, he took the jacket off. He dropped it on the table and sank back into his seat, his expression sullen.

Calleigh picked up the jacket and smiled at Horatio on her way out. He nodded and turned to Diego.

"Are you ready to talk now, Diego?"

* * *

Calleigh chewed on her thumbnail while she waited for John. She wasn't looking forward to their conversation, but it couldn't be avoided.

She saw him approach through the windows and slowly stood. "Hey, John."

"Calleigh." He bent down to kiss her. She turned her head and stepped back.

"Thanks for coming. I needed to talk to you."

"Is everything okay?"

Calleigh shook her head. "No."

John moved towards her and she held up a hand to keep him away, launching straight into her rehearsed speech.

"Just hear me out, okay?" She played with the ends of her ponytail. "This thing . . . us . . . it's not going to work. I'm not in love with you, John, and it's unfair on both of us if we keep seeing each other. It's especially unfair on you. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"Calleigh—"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, John. I really don't want to hurt you, but I can't keep seeing you."

John stared at her for a long moment. "You sound like you've made up your mind."

"Yes."

There was another long silence. "Well, I'm sorry too. But we're still friends, right?"

"Sure."

This time, when he tried to hug her, she let him.

Neither of them knew Horatio had seen the entire exchange through the window. When John left, Horatio saw the look of disappointment on his face. He noticed that Calleigh looked ready to cry but sensed that she needed to be alone right now.

Still, although the breakup pleased him, he couldn't help feeling slightly guilty at the thought that he might have had something to do with it.

* * *

Calleigh sat at her kitchen table. A blueberry muffin was on a plate in front of her. Calleigh was determined to eat it. It was time to get her life together.

She broke a small piece off and popped it in her mouth. She left it there, resting on her tongue and closed her eyes as she willed herself to chew.

Come on, Cal, she told herself, it'll get easier.

The last time she'd eaten a proper meal was the night she and Horatio had babysat Ray.

She picked up the rest of the muffin and scoffed it down, her body crying out for more. There was leftover pasta in the fridge. She polished that off then looked for something else to eat.

Bread.

She didn't bother with a knife but tore chunks off, shoving them into her mouth as quickly as she could swallow.

Halfway through the binge, she stopped, tears pouring down her cheek. "What are you doing?" she wondered aloud.

There was still time to fix this. All she needed to do was go to the bathroom and—

"No." Calleigh closed her eyes. If she could just stay in the chair until the urge passed, she would be okay.

There was a soft meow as H. entered the kitchen. He headed straight for Calleigh and rubbed himself against her legs, purring. Calleigh smiled; at least one creature in the world loved her unconditionally.

She wondered what Horatio would say if he could see her now.

* * *

When Horatio returned to CSI from a boring morning in court, the first thing he saw was Calleigh. Her back was to him, her hair hanging straight down her back and, best of all, she was laughing. Claudia, the receptionist, shook her head then turned away to answer the phone.

Horatio told himself the only reason he headed in that direction was to pick up his messages, but he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Hey, Cal," he said.

She looked up and smiled, and he was pleased to see how relaxed she looked. "Horatio."

Still on the phone, Claudia slid a stack of yellow slips across the counter. Horatio mouthed 'Thank you' and quickly flipped through his messages. There was nothing that demanded his immediate attention and he stowed them in his jacket pocket.

"I'd better get back to the lab," Calleigh said. "I promised Speed results by the end of the day."

"Come by my office when you have a free minute."

"Sure." She gave a shy smile then hurried off. 

Horatio was about to go his own way when a deliveryman walked in, carrying a bunch of yellow tulips. He deposited them on the counter and held his clipboard out to Horatio. "These are for a Miss Calleigh Duquesne."

Intrigued, and more than a little jealous, Horatio signed for the flowers. When the deliveryman left, Horatio pursed his lips and studied the flowers. He had two choices: he could tell Calleigh they were here and let her pick them up at her leisure, or he could take them to her and, at the same time, satisfy his curiosity.

With a smile at Claudia, Horatio picked up the flowers and headed towards the ballistics lab.

Calleigh pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail and exchanged her blazer for a lab coat. The results Speed wanted weren't going to take long but she had needed an excuse to get away from Horatio. Something about the way he'd looked at her left her feeling too open. Vulnerable. She could pretend to be okay if he didn't look too deep.

But he'd told her to see him when she had free time. In his office. Alone.

She didn't think she could trust herself to hold back if he asked her how she was.

"Knock, knock." His velvet voice intruded on her thoughts. She whirled around to face him and was surprised at the flowers in his arms. For a moment, she thought they were from him and her heart skipped a beat.

"These were just delivered for you," he said. When Calleigh smiled, she hoped her disappointment didn't show. "Looks like you've got an admirer."

Calleigh could think of only one person who knew of her penchant for tulips. She opened the card and confirmed her suspicions.

"No such luck," she said, trying to sound carefree. "Just a penitent father."

Horatio's brow furrowed in interest but Calleigh refused to pursue the matter. "Where do you want these?"

The lab was hardly the place for flowers. Calleigh was about to suggest the break room when Horatio spoke again.

"I could keep them in my office for you. You can pick them up before you go home."

Calleigh smiled. Sneaky devil, she thought, now I _have_ to go up there. "Okay," she said. "Thanks."

When Horatio left, Calleigh read the card again. _Cal_, _heard about your breakup_, her father had written. _Thought you could use some cheering up. Love you._

Calleigh slipped the card into her pocket and sighed. She didn't want to know how her father had found out. Thinking about John still made her feel guilty but she knew she'd done the right thing.

* * *

Calleigh waited until the absolute last minute before she went to fetch her flowers. Horatio sat behind his desk, engrossed in a report. Calleigh took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Hey."

He looked up, smiled, and beckoned her inside. "Have a seat. You've been scarce today."

She shrugged, deliberately avoiding his gaze as she sat down. "I've been busy. Eric needed comparisons on that drive-by—"

Horatio held up a hand to silence her. "Let's not talk work. It's after five anyway."

"So it is." Calleigh crossed and uncrossed her legs, feeling the weight of his gaze but unable to look up.

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat? My treat."

Now she did look up and Horatio saw a flash of fear in her eyes. Before he had time to wonder about it, she stood and picked up the flowers.

"I can't. But thanks. And thanks for looking after these. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."

As she hurried down the stairs and out to her car, she inwardly cursed herself for acting like an idiot. It's just one meal, she told herself, there's no harm in it. He was trying to be nice and now he probably thinks there's something wrong.

But there is something wrong, another voice said. Go back, talk to him, he can help.

No, the first voice insisted. Nothing is wrong. Just go home, you can do this on your own.

The first voice—her mother's voice—was stronger. Calleigh had been living with it for years. The second was newer, stranger. Weaker.

Calleigh pushed down every instinct that told her to return to Horatio's office, started her car, and headed for home.

* * *

On the way to hand a report to Horatio, Calleigh ran into Yelina. Since babysitting Ray, Calleigh found it easier to talk to Yelina without feeling any jealousy. Well, she admitted, maybe just a little jealousy.

"Calleigh." Yelina gave a wide, easy smile. "I've been meaning to ask you if it's still okay for Ray to spend some time at the lab. Every day he asks if he can come."

Calleigh smiled back. "Sure. And I promise not to let him handle anything that's loaded."

The women ascended the stairs together. Calleigh was struck by a sudden wave of dizziness and didn't hear Yelina's reply. It was surprisingly difficult to breathe. She dropped the report and clutched at the railing, hoping to steady herself.

Yelina acted quickly and grabbed Calleigh before she fell down the stairs. Horatio and Alexx were just leaving the office and they rushed to assist her. Horatio carried Calleigh into his office and lay her down on the couch.

"Her pulse is weak," Alexx announced, her voice grim. "And very irregular. Let's get her out of this jacket."

Horatio gently slipped the jacket off and made sure her airways were clear. She had turned a frightening shade of white. Yelina's startled gasp drew his attention and he followed her gaze to the cuts on Calleigh's arm. Then he registered the fainter scars—countless lines criss-crossed her skin.

Alexx picked up the phone and called for an ambulance. Horatio didn't notice; he was too busy wondering when Calleigh had gotten so thin, and how it had possibly escaped his attention.

* * *

Calleigh woke up to the low murmur of voices. She opened her eyes and saw Horatio and another man. The stranger wore a white coat and had a stethoscope around his neck. A few seconds later, Calleigh figured out where she was.

She started to sit.

"Calleigh, nice to see you're awake." The doctor's tone was conversational, cheery. Calleigh was instantly on guard. "I'm Dr. Kingston."

Horatio was unusually silent. Calleigh looked at him and was surprised to see that beneath his concern, he seemed angry.

"What am I doing here?" she asked.

"You passed out. Your friends were very worried about you."

"But I'm okay?"

Dr. Kingston paused for one beat too long. Calleigh noticed Horatio staring at her bare arm and quickly moved it beneath the blanket. "You're badly undernourished," Dr. Kingston said. "Your iron levels are far too low—you're anemic. Your—"

"I've just been working too hard," Calleigh said. "I just need to slow down and take it easy . . ."

Both Horatio and Dr. Kingston's expressions clearly conveyed their disbelief. Calleigh looked down at her lap and noticed for the first time that there was an IV in her arm. "It's not what you think," she said.

"Could I have a minute alone, Doctor?" Horatio asked. Calleigh recognized that tone and knew she was in trouble. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Dr. Kingston to stay.

Horatio didn't speak straight away. He took Calleigh's hand and uncovered her other arm. She couldn't look at him, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. He traced the scars on her arm; his touch so light it was almost unbearable. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her callused knuckles, and she wanted to cry.

Then he forced her to look at him and instead of disappointment or anger, she saw hurt. It took her breath away. He was hurting for _her_.

"How long?" he asked.

"On and off, mostly off, since I was sixteen."

Horatio brushed away her tears, ignoring his own. "Don't you know what you're doing to yourself?"

"I can't help it."

"Cal . . ."

"I was fine, for a long time, I really was. But then my dad came to Miami and everything I thought I'd left in Louisiana . . . it wasn't gone, it was just buried. And . . ." She couldn't continue; she'd said more than she'd meant to.

"You could have come to me. You could have trusted me."

His kindness was too much; Calleigh wasn't used to it. She reacted the only way she knew how—with anger. 

"You couldn't have fixed me, Horatio. I'm not some puzzle for you . . . some problem that needs to be solved. What makes you think you could have done anything?"

"You scared the hell out of me when you passed out. I didn't know what to think. No one knew what was wrong. I thought you were going die. This—" He gestured at the IV "—you're killing yourself, Cal. And I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not yours to lose."

Now he began to get angry. "Well, since it's clear you don't give a damn about yourself, someone else has to."

"You?"

"Why not me?"

Calleigh broke eye contact and looked instead at their joined hands. She wondered when he'd wound his fingers through hers. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let go. "Because you could do better."

"Better than you? Not in this lifetime, or any other."

Calleigh couldn't speak. She wanted to tell him he was wrong about her, but the words stuck in her throat.

"Do you want to get better?"

She nodded.

"Good. That's the first step. We'll get through this, Cal. Together."

It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to her. She was no longer alone. She reached up to wipe away his tears; no one had ever cried for her before. Her hand shook as her fingers brushed against his cheek. He took her other hand, brought it to his lips, and placed the softest of kisses on each fingertip. Then he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tenderly, treating her as if she was precious china. She wanted to say she wouldn't break, except she knew it wasn't true.

It didn't matter anyway. If she broke, Horatio would be there to help her pick up the pieces. That meant more to her than anything else he might have said. She leaned into him, drawing strength from him, seeking warmth. He lay her back down and slid into position beside her, as close as he could possibly get. Her face buried in his chest, Calleigh smiled and drifted off to sleep, secure in the knowledge that this was exactly where she was supposed to be.

* * *

FIN


End file.
